


My heart ain't in it, but I'll hold the door

by Miruuuww



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Sam, Caring Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Sam Winchester, Eventual Smut, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I swear this is happy, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Or not but its close enough, Pet Names, Sam Winchester Loves Dean Winchester, Samulet (Supernatural), Samulet Fix-It (Supernatural), Smut, Somewhere around s5, The Author Regrets Nothing, Top Dean, Voicemail, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:33:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24294394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miruuuww/pseuds/Miruuuww
Summary: "Just, I just need to know you're coming back." The older didn't look up, and Sam felt something happy bloom in his chest again. "Of course, Dean."
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 93





	1. I cannot find the words to keep you

**Author's Note:**

> Oookay! Y'all didn't see this coming, didya. Well, you can blame my good ol friend for giving me inspiration for this, and I hope she's gonna like this! Comments are appreciated as always, have fun  
> Chapter name from a song called Not Yet/Love Run by the Amazing Devil

It was quiet, the sunset throwing out the last strays of light that lit the room, the hum of the air conditioner, the occasional sound of a car passing by, and the creaks of the motel bed's old and rusty springs. Sam couldn't sleep, sue him, the knowledge of what waited for him every time he closed his eyes, and the lack of another person in the room enough to keep him awake the whole night.

Dean wasn't here. Probably off to fuck a hooker, earn some cash or just away from his little brother, to drink away the disappointment Sam became in the end. Who could blame him, after all Sam did, how could he expect Dean to forgive him? It wasn't only the looks the older threw at him, the dismissing hums, spectic attitude at every time Sam told him he was going outside, nor the lack of the old, bronzed amulet hanging against his big brother's chest. 

Dean had Castiel now, the angel from Heaven, who knew exactly what to do, and what to not do to win the older Winchester over. _"Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood."_ It didn't matter. 

Sam was the reason Dean went to hell, and no matter how many times the Devil told him what waited behind the dark layer of death, Sam was repaying it, someday. 

Sitting up, he ran a hand through the almost greasy locks, the hair that now hang a little too long, a tangled mess Sam didn't bother to fix. Dean had liked his hair, at some point at least, even if the older would never admit it. The air outside of the blankets was cold, warmth of the Sun gone as the September air settled in. Dean had been gone for a while, long enough for Sam to assume his brother wasn't coming back. Tonight, no, tomorrow, he could only hope. Checking his phone, something tugging in his chest as there were no new messages. There used to be a time Dean sent him a check up message every third hour, just to make sure he was still there, and not taken by some murderous monster.

Sam would be surprised if now the older would even notice, if he was gone.

His duffel rested by the end of his bed, the old colour and the fabric used and ripped from couple of spots. Digging into the small, carefully cut pocket in the furthest corner of the duffel, fingers wrapping around the familiar leather, Sam pulled out the amulet. He couldn't leave it behind, no matter how silly he was for thinking it mattered anything to Dean, or held any emotional worth. It was just an old charm, bought from a creaky shop just by the corner of Claremore to give to his father for Christmas, and he ended up giving it to the most important person in his life, Dean. 

The older had opened the badly wrapped package, barely hiding his excitement for once getting a gift, and Sam still remembered the small, almost child like smile on Dean's lips as his fingers wrapped around the leather. Pulling it over his head, Dean had ended the moment by pulling Sam into a tight hug, hand resting against his neck.

Goosebumps ran around him as Sam grazed his fingers against the spot. Even after Stanford, Dean had used to hug him, a little sidewayed hug, or a proper one as an excuse for neither of them getting hurt on a hunt. After couple of nightmares, Dean would even come to bed with him, throw an arm over the small of his back, sometimes clothed, sometimes bared chest pressing against his side. He didn't mention the tears that soaked the pillow, just held him close, warm puffs of breath tickling his shoulder. Even sometimes, he'd press a quiet, soft kiss in the darkness of the night against his temple, and that would be the last thing Sam remembered, before he always fell asleep.

Throwing the amulet he scrambled off the bed, the door creaking open as Dean slipped in. Sam tried to calm his nerves, already knowing how suspicious it looked. Risking a glance at Dean, the older's eyes looking at him, wary _"it means you're a monster, Sam"_

"Thought you'd be hittin' the sack already." It was a statement, Dean tossing his wallet onto the nightstand, sitting down to take his shoes off. Sam swallowed back whatever cheesy fairytale he had imagined, going for a quiet, non shaky answer, "Nah, didn't feel like it." 

Dean only hummed at that, and the conversation was over. Gone were the teasing, jokes, casual _'how are you'_ s, chatting about whatever popped into mind. Sam lowered his eyes back to the duffel, the corner of the barely hidden amulet staring back at him, judging. Sam let out a sigh, murmuring something about taking a shower, grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of pants before he slipped into the bathroom. The cracked tiles, the undeniable smell of something rotten and spoiled met him, but he'd still rather be here than in the room with his estranged older brother. 

Taking his clothes off, Sam tossed the clean ones onto the counter, stepping into the shower, eyes burning. He turned the shower on, cold water almost making him yelp, but he bit his teeth to avoid making a sound. No, his brother didn't care enough to notice anything anymore, but Sam wasn't taking a risk. Grabbing the chunky soap, he let himself go for another moment, live in the fairytale world where Dean wasn't disgusted of him, where things were alright, and the small, fiery sparkle between them could blossom into something beautiful. 

He dreamed of kind words, protective hands wrapped around him, fingers wrapping around his wrist as Dean pulled him around in school, excited smiles, quiet, intimate moments on Pizza Fridays, and even the rare _"I love you"_ s. He could dream for a little longer. 

"Don't use all the hot water!" Sam flinched, the bang at the door and Dean's monotone voice enough to break the fantasy, and he hurried to get himself clean. Turning the shower off he grabbed the closest towel, making quick work drying his body, desperately trying to make his hair stop dripping water, other hand clumsily grabbing at his clean clothes. When finally dressed, he checked himself in the mirror, no visible marks of the emotional slip he had rolling on. Sam could always blame the lack of sleep, if someone were to ask. 

He stepped out of the shower, not meeting the small glance Dean threw at his way, heading towards the warmth of his bed. Quickly after he had sat down, the bathroom door closed and the shower turned on. Maybe Dean was like he was, because of the lack of sleep. Sam couldn't believe the other Archangel would simply leave Dean unbothered, as Satan happily occupied his dreams every night. Rubbing his eyes, Sam held in a yawn, ignoring the drowsiness in his head that demanded sleep, a nap, a rest of any kind. 

He glanced over to Dean's unmade bed, the ruffled covers and pillow. It looked as if the older was sleeping, and Sam hadn't heard him tossing and turning through the nights, so maybe, _maybe_ , Dean had the relief of being able to sleep. Then what made Lucifer so desperate to bother Sam, if Michael didn't bare a thought to Dean? 

The bathroom door opened, Sam's mind still whirring as he thought of whatever masterplan was behind all this, "Planning on sleeping tonight?" 

"Does Michael visit you in your dreams?" The question was blurted out, Sam lifting his head to look at Dean, hair slightly damp, eyes slightly wide with confusion, lips pursed into a small frown. The older blinked, shoulders sagging as a forced chuckle left his lips, "Of course not, I think I'd now if a freaking angel was messing in my dreams." Sam swallowed, his muscles starting to twitch as the nervousness set in. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. Dean was suppose to be Michael's true vessel, he couldn't just expect Dean to let him take over when the time came, as Lucifer played with his mind and insecurities. Lucifer was dependant on him, as Michael was suppose to be on Dean, so why wasn't Michael making sure Dean was ready for being-

"Sam! You hearin' me?" Sam flinched, looking up to meet Dean's expecting eyes, now darkened with something. "Sorry, wasn't listening." Sam simply said, not bothering to amuse his brother with a another white lie. 

"I asked, why are you asking? Did Cas pop by to tell you something? Is that why you were all weird when I came in?" The lack of trust didn't hit Sam too hard anymore as it did a while ago, and he shook his head, set on dropping the subject. Paint him surprised, as Dean got closer, eyes fixed on him. They were quiet, the sounds of the road close by and each other's breathing filling the motel room. Sam stared, at the green eyes, the soft freckles that painted the soft, smooth skin of his brother's face, the slight wrinkles forming at the corner of his eyes. Dean kneeled, coming down to the same level with him just like he did back when they were kids. 

"What's up, Sam? Honestly, this time." His voice was quieter, softer than it had been in ages, and that was enough for the tears to come. They burned their way up, his sight glossing over slightly before he quickly blinked, fighting to keep those stubborn tears in. He swallowed the bitter lump in his throat, eyes locked with his own hands that were nervously laid on his lap.

"I-" Sam croaked, clearing his throat a little as he searched for the words, "I haven't been sleeping, be-because Lucifer comes to me every time I do." Done, it was out. Now Dean would nod, hum, and retreat to his bed and they wouldn't talk about this before either of them were dying. Dean didn't say a word, still kneeling front of him, and Sam didn't dare to risk a glance to check the older's reaction.

"You-You haven't been sleeping because o-of, fucking Lucifer?" Dean's voice was tense, and Sam raised his head. The hand that had been on the bed next to him, now held tightly the sheets. Dean's eyes were wide with anger, the muscle on his jaw twitching as his throat bobbed. Sam opened his mouth, not knowing what to say.

"The fucking Devil is visiting you in your dreams, and you don't think about tellin' me?!" Dean quickly stood up, turning around as he paced for a second, before those flaming green eyes set themselves on Sam. Feeling something ugly roar itself in the bottom of his stomach, Sam stood up, feeling his face twitch as anger and hurt made themselves be known.

"What do you want Dean? It's been months, **months** , since you talked to me properly, looked at me like I was still something to be- to be cared about! You haven't asked how shit has been going, how it felt when something I trusted for my entire life to be good, to understand why Ruby decided to fuck me over ten ways to Sunday, tell me that I'm a filthy son of a bitch! So no, I didn't think about telling my big brother who'd rather drown himself in hunting than fucking just talk to me about the damn Devil haunting me in my sleep!" Heaving for air, Sam felt the tears of anger rush down his cheeks, but they didn't soothe the anger that burned in his gut, the hurt for Dean abandoning him when he needed him the most. 

Dean had gone quiet, his body slightly vibrating with something Sam assumed was anger, until he looked him in the eye. Gone was the angry look, now the green eyes stared at him, glossed over, jaw tensed as Dean stared at him, and Sam felt the anger starting to leave him. 

"Sammy." It was quiet, the whisper of a nickname Sam loved, especially the way Dean, and only Dean, said it. After all this time, a small rush of warmth in his gut pooled around, adding more fuel to the tears that never stopped. Dean took in a shaky breath, turning around as he ran a hand through his hair. Sam closed his eyes for a second, taking in couple breaths, a small part of him hoping that whatever was going to happen, wouldn't be what the Devil told.

"I'm, I'm fucking suppose to be your _big brother_." Choked words, but Sam couldn't help but go for the last strike, no matter how much he loved him, things would never be the same. "And still, you threw the amulet away." A choked chuckle, that sounded almost like a cry, left Dean's lips. His chest tugged him up, and he approached the slightly shaking figure of his brother. Gathering his courage, Sam placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, and that was the cue.

Dean spun around, and before Sam could prepare for a hit, the familiar, warm, muscular arms wrapped around him, _so warm what's happening_ and as Dean's fingers brushed against his neck, Sam felt his knees starting to buckle. Dean brought him lower, and Sam went with it, burying his nose in the dip of Dean's shoulder, feeling the tears start to make their way out. His heart cried at the feeling, and Sam fell into the hug. 

He let all the anger, all the hurt wash out of him, sobbing against Dean as the other rubbed gentle, soft circles against his back, keeping him caged in the arms Sam never wanted to leave. After god knows how long, the quiet words started to make sense, "Shh, I got you, I got you, it's okay now, you didn't do anything wrong Sammy, oh god how can you ever forgive me, shh shh I'm here and I'm never leaving again they can all go fuck themselves, I don't care, I'm not leaving you ever again baby boy." His heart roared at the endearment, and Sam let himself relax even more, now realizing the surface he was sitting on, and how Dean was mostly crouched in an awkward position above him. 

"I'm s-sorry." "No, no no no, Sammy babe you got nothing to be sorry for, okay? Nothing to be sorry for. I'll be better, I promise I'll be better, it's okay, I got you." Sam forced out a weak laugh, more snot than laughter, "I meant your old man bones, that got-gotta be a shitty position." A startled laugh left Dean, the sound warming Sam's bones all the way down. They parted ways, Dean with a brief kiss against his temple, and Sam was sure he was red as a firetruck. 

"My bones aren't old, dude! I'm in top shape and I'll always be." A brief shine of what it was, Dean smiled, genuinely, before it dimmed down so it almost looked like a frown. Already knowing what he was thinking, Sam interrupted, "Hey, it's okay. You couldn't have known, and it w-was wrong of me to throw it all on you." A bitter laugh left Dean, and the older kneeled down, a warm, comforting hand settling against his neck, "It's you, I should always know." 

Sam went for a smile, but from the look Dean made, he guessed it didn't work out. Gently wrapping his fingers around the other's hand, he let out a sigh, heart still beating out of his chest. The quiet settled over them, but this time it wasn't awkward. 

"Can you ever forgive me? Fuck, I know I can't get the amulet back but, can, can you baby boy, can you ever forgive me?" Dean blurted the rest out, but Sam read between the lines, _'can we ever be what we were?'_

He let out a shaky sigh, running a hand across his face. The answer was as obvious as the moon that now hang from the sky, but he knew he had things to think. "I'll, I'm gonna go for a walk, okay?" He looked up, and saw the flash of hurt, before Dean covered it up with a forced smile. The hand left his neck as Dean backed up, throat bobbing, "Sure, sure. I'll just, wait here." Sam nodded, and with a brief smile he stood up, and headed for the door, needing to get some fresh cold air to cool himself with. He grabbed his shoes, quickly took a jacket, not caring if it was Dean's or his.

"Sammy, wait." He turned around, watched Dean stare back at him, before the older sighed, and looked down at the floor. "Just, I just need to know you're coming back." The older didn't look up, and Sam felt something happy bloom in his chest again. "Of course, Dean." He said, maybe a little too quiet because the other looked up, almost as if waiting for another mental breakdown. Dean gave him a tight nod, and Sam smiled lightly, before he left the hotel room.


	2. I've loved you, for a thousand years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wanna talk about some things." He said, keeping his head down. He could hear Dean shifting on the bed, probably thinking the worst. 
> 
> "Yeah, we can do that Sammy." He swallowed, his heart thumping a bit louder at the nickname.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!
> 
> First of all, I wanna apologise for taking so long with this chapter. Second of all, I hope you're all doing decently well, with Supernatural coming to it's end.
> 
> Second of all, DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters, or anything about Supernatural, and I make no profit of this.
> 
> Again thank you to my dear friend, you know exactly who you are, for being so patient with me, and supporting me always.
> 
> Everyone stay safe, and please wear a mask.

A breeze of wind blew past him, his body shivering the slightest. He hadn't dressed properly, but in his defense he hadn't estimated his little run off to be this long.

It had been almost an hour already, and Sam didn't feel any closer to getting his mind clear. A part of him was trying to figure out the differences in Lucifer's and Michael's actions, other part of him yearned to go back to Dean, stay close to him, talk everything through, and maybe chase after the feeling of safety he still had whenever close to the older. Dean's actions were crossing each other out, didn't make sense. He could understand that they've both said some stuff they didn't mean when mad, but the voicemail still was a next level anger, and here Dean was asking for forgiveness. 

His scalp was tingling, hair not properly dried after his shower. Being in the chilly air for so long had made it all frizzy, and along with the mess his hair was previously, now he probably looked even worse. He didn't feel like going back yet, nonethless of the mess in his head. Technically, all he had to do was stand up from where he was leaning against the motel's wall, walk around the corner, and through their room's door. What if Dean wouldn't be there? If Sam took too long, maybe the other would grow tired of waiting, and go away, God knows where. 

He had to go.

Bracing himself Sam tried to clear his head, rolling his tense shoulders, before heading off towards their room. The coldness was starting to bother him anyway, a chilly reminder of Lucifer's words. He didn't like cold.

The door was in front of him before he could fully comprehend. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the handle, and stepped into the room's warmth.

Immediately he spotted Dean, a slight feeling of heaviness leaving his chest at the look of him. Sitting on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, Dean didn't look much better than before. The green eyes now locked with him, still able to make his breath hitch, were still clouded with what Sam had decided maybe a bit optimistically, that was guilt, or Dean's twisted way of thinking he couldn't understand. Neither of them said a word, it almost felt like Dean was waiting for Sam to say something like a big judgement, announce he was done, didn't want to see him anymore, and Sam expected the same from Dean.

"Your hair's all frizzled. Cold out there?" Quiet, maybe a even bit awkward words. Sam had rarely seen Dean awkward, the older was always ready, always knew what to say when Sam only stumbled over the most basic answers. Still, his lips quirked up, looking down at his shoes as he mulled an answer. 

"A bit yeah, didn't go walking so it felt colder." Dean hummed, and the silence continued. Sam took the time to unzip his jacket and put it away, before standing awkwardly at the door frame. He didn't know where to start, what to say, what to not say, to keep his brother with him. Even this version of Dean, who had lost faith in him, pretty much disowned him, but still seemed to hold even some kind of love for him. It would always be enough for Sam. 

"I wanna talk about some things." He said, keeping his head down. He could hear Dean shifting on the bed, probably thinking the worst. 

"Yeah, we can do that Sammy." He swallowed, his heart thumping a bit louder at the nickname. Giving a small nod without looking at Dean, he shuffled a bit closer, thinking of what to start with. Of course, the voicemail demanded attention the loudest, but Sam didn't want to start of with something so rough, perhaps. But he didn't have a choice.

"The, the uh, voicemail you left me when I was off with Ruby, planning to kill Lilith." He looked up, facing Dean who was leaning forward, hands splayed on his lap, eyes asking him to continue. Sam bit his lip, ignoring the chaos of emotions brewing in his chest and the slight panic of the finality of whatever Dean's answer was going to be. 

"Did you mean it, when you said you were done saving me?"

There it went. Out in the open. Out of the little dark corner in Sam's mind that just wouldn't shut up. He could understand, if Dean was done with him, he probably wanted a last reassurance from Sam, before he'd kill him. Either kill him now, or wait and risk Lucifer ending the world. It wasn't hard math.

"When did I say that?" Sam blinked, confusion and slight nervousness raising their heads. He frowned, looking at Dean, still sitting on the bed, forehead frowned and lips set into a tight line. He genuinely looked confused, and Sam took a breath to calm the anger brewing beneath.

"In the voicemail you left me." He keeps his voice stable, even if Dean's confused expression seems to deepen even more. He can't believe Dean already forgot what he'd said to him. 

"I never said that, Sam. I told you that I was angry at you, yes, but I never, ever, said that I was done saving you." Now Dean sounds upset, standing up from the bed before he just stands there, both of them frowning heavily at each other. Sam doesn't want another shouting match, so he walks over to his duffel, taking his phone out of it. A familiar order of pressing buttons, and he turns to Dean, whose still staring him, now maybe a bit concerned glint in his eyes. He walks closer, and presses the final button.

He closes his eyes, not wanting to see the realization on Dean's face. Maybe Lucifer was right, Dean was only hanging around till it'd be the correct moment for him to slice Sam's head off, whatever the angels wanted for their little show. Castiel would be sitting in front row, and he and Dean would carry on, maybe even hunt for a while together. Dean would never stop hunting, and hunting would never stop being the highest bet on how Dean was going to die eventually.

The voicemail ends, and Sam exhales, opening his eyes again. He looks at Dean, eyebrows furrowing. Instead of his older brother looking, well, whatever Sam had imagined, this wasn't it. Dean was a bit pale, his eyes locked on the phone, lips parted in an expression Sam had rarely seen. Dean didn't get shocked, he wasn't shocked by anything. So why was he looking like that?

"Dean?" He asks, quiet. He doesn't know what's going on, if some angel is fucking with them, but Dean is starting to look like he's on the brink of a panic attack. The quiet ends as Dean's eyes snap to him, wide with what Sam can only recognize as shock. He opens his mouth, but is quickly cut off,

"That's the voicemail you got the day the Cage opened?" It's a notch higher, too close to a hysterical sound, and Sam jumps in.

"Listen, I understand-"

"You understand?! Sam, was that the voicemail you got or not?!" Dean's suddenly yelling and Sam, still confused and slightly hurt of his brother's memory loss, quickly quips back before Dean looses his mind over whatever this is.

"Well yes! I mean, I'd think you would remember sending it, since you're the one..." He trails off, looking at Dean who had sagged onto his own bed, face hidden in his hands. Sam frowns again, confused of the way Dean's acting. Had he hit his head on a hunt? Is that why he can't remember, and is acting so weirdly?

"Sammy... God, that's not the voicemail I sent you." The words are muffled, and Sam can't believe them. He heard him wrong, right? Because there's his phone sitting on the edge of the bed, that says otherwise. Before he however manages to say another thing, Dean looks up at him, suddenly looking so tired. A glint of desperation shines in those eyes, along with what looks like another try of tears, and Sam feels his stomach drop. He takes a step closer, and Dean jumps on the opportunity, familiar hands closing around his, gripping him tight as Dean stares up at him.

"That was not the voicemail I sent you. I would never stop protecting you, saving you even though you don't need it, no matter what the angels and demons tell us. I would never." It's the tone Sam remembers way back, the serious, firm tone Dean spoke in the first time Sam was almost caught in between a hunt. His brother had sat him down, after making sure he was actually alright the entire trip back to their motel room, and spoke to him in that exact tone. He had told Sam he'd never stop protecting him, that he was his baby brother, and he'd keep him safe as long as life was in him.

The mere memory is enough to bring tears in his eyes, and he stares back at Dean, remembers the look in his eyes back then, and realizes Dean's speaking the truth.

It all hits him like a truck, a straight punch into the gut and chest, slamming straight into those sad, angry and guilty feelings that have nagged on him for months. He sits down on the bed, realizing Dean moving by him only a second too late. A hand around his back, another around his waist, and Dean pulls him against his chest, Sam instantly tucking himself under Dean's chin. 

His chest hurts, his mind is a mess, "I'll never give up on you, Sammy. This whole shit wasn't even your fault, it's not your fault. You did nothing wrong. I'm so proud of you. I'm not leaving you. I'll be here, for every step. We're gonna figure this out together, okay? We gonna figure this out, and then we can take a little break, whatdya say, Sammy?" It's enough to make him snort through the tears, his arms tightening around Dean even more, as the older continues rubbing his shoulders, other hand resting on his neck.

Sam only manages to nod, trying to process through the knowledge that Dean didn't hate him. Didn't want him dead. Still loved him.

"Thought you hated me, thats why I didn't tell you." He mumbles into Dean's shirt, but the older understands, as always. He's heard Sam babble out his first word, he could probably know what Sam was saying even if he was under ten mattresses, and whispering. "I could never hate you. Never." Dean presses his head down on top of Sam's head.

They stay like that, for who knows how long. Sam stays nestled against his brother, damning the angels and demons all to hell, for almost breaking him and Dean apart. One of them could've died during all this, and they would've never talked about this, and Sam would've never known Dean didn't want him dead. He sniffles, and Dean takes that as a sign to lean back, away. Sam would complain, but hopes they can heal this back to the level he'll get as many hugs as he wants.

Dean smiles, a bit of a sad smile, his eyes still glimmering with some leftover tears. Sam smiles back, as natural as breathing air, his smile widening as Dean clasps his other hand on his shoulder, other cupping his cheek. It's an intimate touch, that makes him blush a bit, but still lean into the touch. He sees Dean's lips quirk up, and for a moment he sees something softer in those green eyes, before Dean clears his throat.

"Any other stuff you wanna talk about? Anything at all. I wanna know, so we can work this out." It's a rare, straightforward confession from Dean, and Sam swallows. Of course, the amulet lying in his bag a mere feet away, crosses his mind immediately. He knows Dean thinks he's lost it forever, and maybe he could repay Dean opening up to him this much, by giving it back?

He grins, and Dean roses his eyebrows, clearly interested in Sam's train of thought. Before Dean could ask anything, Sam slipped away, feeling only a bit bad leaving his brother's arms, and kneeled by his duffel. Trying to hide it from Dean's vision, Sam wrapped the amulet tightly into his fist. He straightened up, turning around back to face Dean. Dean, whose eyes seemed to have lingered on him, maybe checking out possible injuries? A quiet thought suggested that Dean was looking at his ass, which immediately made Sam blush. Brushing the thought aside he walked over to Dean, sitting back onto the bed, knocking their knees together.

He swallows, only a bit nervous. He knows, at least he thinks he does, that Dean will like it. That he'll want it back. He looks up to Dean, whose looking at him again with that soft look, but this time he doesn't hide it immediately. He continues smiling with this soft, subtle smile, eyes still a little bloodshot, but in Sam's eyes he still looks perfect. He smiles a bit, handing his hand out, turning his palm up. Before he can open it, Dean grabs it, gentle touch at his wrist. Sam opens his hand, watching Dean's reaction as the amulet is revealed.

Dean's face seems to tighten for a second, his throat bobs, and his smile wavers. Careful hands pick the amulet up, handling it with such care it reminds Sam of the first time he gave it to Dean. Maybe this is a new beginning. Giving the amulet to Dean, seemed to solidify their relationship back then, and maybe it could do it again. Dean turns the amulet in his hands, and Sam feels something in his chest start to settle. Maybe they'll be okay.

It takes Dean a while to say something, not long enough for Sam to however start worrying. "You kept it?" It's a quiet question, Dean's eyes still on the amulet in his hands, but Sam knows his attention is on him.

"I couldn't leave it there. Even if you," He stops, swallowing down the lump. They've cried more today than in probably years. He chuckles, looking down at his own hands, before clearing his throat. "Even if you threw it away, I'll never stop looking up to you, and loving you, and I had to pick it up. A part of me hoped that maybe some day you'd want it back." 

He feels better getting it off his chest, Dean's other hand on his knee a familiar comfort. He looks up, to find Dean smiling down at him. His heart stops beating, butterflies exploding in his stomach as Dean leans forwards. Sam stays still, staring into Dean's eyes that seem a bit wary again. Instead of feeling Dean's lips against his own, a warm forehead leans against his. Sam exhales, the nervous feelings disappearing, and smiles, leaning back against Dean. 

They stay like that for a while, and Sam feels calmness he hasn't felt in a while. Lucifer, angels, demons, they don't matter anymore. He has his brother back. He has his other half, the person he'll love forever, back, and he won't let anything come between them ever again. They'll do this together. Till the end.

Dean leans back, but as soon as he left, Sam feels a pair of lips press against his forehead. "I love you, so much. Thank you."

And then Dean's gone, the world is bright again, even if the apocalypse is raining down on them. Sam shuffles closer, their legs a tangled mess, and puts the amulet where it belongs. They almost knock heads together looking at it, and they both feel a sense of serenity settle.


	3. I'll stand here for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, how, oh, how unreasonable  
> How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do  
> I'll spend my days so close to you  
> 'Cause if I'm standing here, maybe everyone will think I'm alright"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> So, last chapter is out, thank you to everyone for supporting me with this book <3
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Stay safe!

There's a small ache forming in his cheeks for smiling so long. He feels like a teenager, first love making him all jittery in the stomach, making his heart fill with warmth. In a way, Sam is his first love.

He's loved him from the second Mom introduced the small, red crying ball wrapped in cloths to him. He's loved him through feeling excited of how much fun he and Sammy are going to have when he's older, to running outside of their burning home, Sam in his arms. He's loved him while struggling to find out how to care for a baby and an alcoholic father at the same time. He's loved him, watching him stumble as he takes his first steps, says his first proper words ('De', mostly), to this very second. He isn't even sure when his love for Sam took the turn for something else than just brotherly love.

So in this moment, he couldn't give a shit about what the angels want them to do, what their 'destiny' wants them to do. He has Sam. Sam, soundly sleeping in his arms for the first time in God knows how long, legs tangled with his, face mushed against his shoulder. He could be drooling, but Dean doesn't care. Through everything they've gone through, they're finally on the right track again. Why had he even let things go this bad, he doesn't know, but he's already sworn to never let it happen again. He's come too close to loosing Sam, and not just to death. 

Cold Oak is a painful reminder, but it's a reminder for Dean of a world without Sam. A reminder of a stiff, unmoving body, closed eyes and cold skin turning grey. Of not having Sam by his side, no one that understands him, knows him, or loves him like Sam does. He'd rather be in Hell for the rest of his life, than have Sam dead.

Which he doesn't think Sam understands. But he can blame himself for that. He'll fix it.

And even if it means living his life with Sam, without having him completely in the way Dean wants, if it means Sam will live how he wants, Dean will happily live with that. He isn't going to let his own feelings potentionally damage their finally on-the-mend relationship.

But for now, he can pretend with Sam against him, and hope tomorrow will be easier for them.

°°°

Of course it isn't.

It's not even 9 AM yet, and Dean's out of the bed, heart racing like after one of Dad's more intense trainings, his brain still weary but wired on the reason he woke up. 

And waking up to Sam hysterically crying and occasionally letting out half-cut screams, really isn't his jam.

There is a big part of him currently swearing to cut the Devil's throat when he sees him, for what he's done, but now he has more important things to do.

"Sammy? Come on little brother, come back to me." He's half crouched, a foot in between them. He's close enough to grab him, but doesn't want to scare the still shaking form of his baby brother. Staying still, hoping Sam will get back by himself, or he might have to call Bobby for some help. His chest aches, and he tries to calm himself, otherwise he'll be no use to calming Sam.

The teary, wide hazel eyes still locked with him loose their narrow look, but they're still full of distrust. Dean doesn't know why, and maybe he doesn't even want to know.

"Dean?" Still distrustful, but at least Sam is acknowledging him.   
"Yeah, it's me. You with me, kiddo?" He dares to move a little closer, hand still held out, till he's close enough to brush against Sam's clothed skin. He flinches, but doesn't move away, and Dean counts that as a win. Sam exhales, and the tension seems to bleed out from his shoulders. Dean steps closer, their hips bumping against each other, and carefully wraps his arm around his brother.

Another exhale, and Dean can feel Sam resting his head on his shoulder. He knocks their head's closer together, rubbing Sam's back in slow motions, remembering back to when all he had to do to distract Sam from asking questions was to play some shape game with him, guessing what the shape the other was drawing was. It usually resulted in Sam falling asleep in the middle of Dean drawing on his back, and before Sam became a teenager, it was still probably his most used tactic to get the kid to sleep.

"Sorry... Jus' bad dreams." Dean huffs, but doesn't back out from the hug, happily giving Sam the comfort he might need. Nightmares are a bitch, Dean knows that, and he doesn't want to think about what all horrors Lucifer is showing Sam, or making him believe. He'll try to talk about it to him some day, and if Sam wants to share he's willing to listen. Might help him understand how to act when Sam wakes up another time like today. 

"No need to be sorry, what am I here for?" Sam chuckles, and that's enough. Dean backs off, but can't help grinning back at Sam, who keeps smiling in that slightly curved way that always makes Dean feel warm. He seems okay, a bit fazed still, and Dean is fine with it. He'll take his mind off it, get them some food, have some fun, and later he can ask about it, but not yet. 

"Yeah, yeah.." Sam chuckles, patting Dean's shoulder as he moves past him. He goes to pick up the sheets that had been thrown off the bed, and Dean feels a bit bad for perving on his little brother, and quickly averts his eyes from Sam's backside. He walks to him, picking up the sheet he had kicked off in instict, and throwing it on the bed carelessly. They got better things to be doing than making their beds. 

Sam sighs, and Dean joins him. They're sitting on the bed again, and Dean wonders what things will be spilled now, since every emotional talk they've had in a while have happened here. Guessing Sam wants to talk about it after all, he asks, "You want to talk about it?"

"Just the same stuff. Guess he's running out of ideas. I've been thinking about why Lucifer is going after me, but Michael isn't going after you. I think the angels might have something to do with it." Dean humms, thinking for a moment.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Those winged fuckers are always up to something. You think we should confront them about it, or avoid 'em?" Sam nibbles on his lower lip, and Dean feels his gut tighten. 

"Maybe avoid, I'm not really up for their shit." Dean nods, but he isn't really focusing. He is getting a bad, bad urge and he really shouldn't do it-

"You wanna talk about somethin?" Sam's turning to look at him, and Dean tries to hide his thoughts, quickly swallowing. Sam roses an eyebrow, so he probably wasn't successful. 

Dean stays quiet for a minute, Sam waiting patiently. There's a dog barking outside, and someone, probably the dog's owner, who is yelling at it distantly. When Dean still remains quiet, Sam shuffles closer, bumping their knees together. 

"Just thinking about what Ash said. Of us, you know, being soulmates, and uh, sharing Heaven." Dean avoids eye contact, staring at something on his lap.

"You think the angels could be screwing with that too?" Dean is quick to shake his head, chuckling a bit dryly.

"Nah.. I'm pretty sure there's no one else on this stupid planet I'd rather spend my Heaven with." 

Sam ignores the feeling in his chest, because Dean doesn't mean it like that. "Not even-" He doesn't even get to finish.

"Nope." Dean says, popping the 'p'. He seems normal, where Sam feels his whole chest explode, and gasps quietly, his throat tighten. 

It's as good of a love confession that he'll ever get.

He stays quiet, his mind going hundred miles an hour. If he's wrong, he might destroy their relationship for good. If he's not...

Dean's eyes twitch to him, and once Sam sees the vulnerability in them, he doesn't hold back.

He's turning his whole body around to reach for Dean, and as the older turns his head, Sam feels the pieces in his mind click together as their lips do. A small, surprised sound greets him, but all Sam can concentrate on is Dean Dean Dean-

He tastes distantly of the beer they shared before going to bed. His lips are warm, slightly pinkish from being nibbled on, and they fit against Sam's so perfectly. They stay there, breathing tightly against each other. Just as he's about to pull back, Dean seems to snap into action. A hand grabs his neck, pulling him closer, and Sam's forced to straddle him. Wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders, he gasps, the space in his pants quickly starting to disappear as Dean kisses him with all the skill Sam's seen. He has imagined Dean kissing him like this, passionate and filthy, but this is so much better than any of his dirty dreams.

He's getting drunk of pleasure, his hips involuntarily rolling against Dean's, their crotches rubbing against each other. Dean gasps, his fingers in Sam's neck tightening, and Sam can feel the outline of his cock. The hunger comes unexpected, and Sam tightens his legs around Dean, rubbing them together, chasing after the pleasure. Dean's other hand grabs his back, rocking them against each other. The movement is almost like, fuck, Sam was riding Dean.

At the thought, he lets out a whimper, that Dean swallows, his hands and lips on him making his body jello. Unable to think, Sam snakes a hand between them, fingers rubbing against Dean's clothed erection. Taking advantage of the gasp he lets out, Sam bites on his lip, his tongue teasing the painful area. 

Dean's hand on his neck moves, gripping his hair, as he kisses Sam back with the same hunger, tongue teasing him breathless. Feeling too good, his hand slowly goes lower, feeling the goosebumps spread on Sam's skin, till his fingers touch the waistband of his boxers. Breaking the kiss, he loosens his own pants, not even ashamed of the clear tent in them, before he cups Sam's face. He looks wrecked, and Dean feels his balls tighten. Slight sweat on his forehead, his eyes clouded and filled with lust, lips kissed bright red, a small bush dusting his cheeks.

"You sure?" He asks, his own voice breathless and low. Sam's eyes twitch to his lips, before he grins slightly, and then Dean is being kissed again. He grunts, his free hand slipping underneath the fabric of Sam's boxers, feeling up the bare skin. He can't help but dig his fingers into the meat, finally able to grab the ass he's been jerking off to. Sam gasps, as Dean's thumb brushes over his hole, but before Dean can ask anything, Sam grabs the waistband of his sweatpants, and pulls them down, Dean's erection popping up. 

What's even worse, is that Sam wraps his hand around the shaft before Dean can react, and all he can do is buck his hips and shudder. Sam shifts his body, the leg around his back pulling him with, as Sam lies down at the bed. Hovering on his elbows, Dean pants down, as Sam continues rubbing him. A cooler hand against his cock that seems almost like on fire, and Dean bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut as Sam runs a thumb over his slit. Balancing on his other elbow, he grabs the hem of Sam's shirt, nearly ripping it off, before he's already grabbing the edge of his sweats and boxers. Sam lifts his hips a bit, and Dean takes that as a yes, pulling them down. Sam kicks them off, legs wrapping around him and holy fuck-

To finally be able to feel Sam's bare skin against his own, to feel their cocks rub against each other, lengthwise nearly identical, makes Dean's whole brain hotwire with pleasure.

Sam pulls him down, their lips locking together again for something much more dirtier. Running his hands around Sam's fit body, Dean takes it all in, unable to believe that this isn't a dream. Sam's arms around his middle pull him down, their bodies flush against each other, making both of them gasp into the kiss.

"Lube?" Sam pants against his lips, and Dean takes a moment to think, before what Sam is implying truly hits him. 

"Fuck, fuck yeah hold on, don't move-" And he's scrambling off the bed, lunging for his duffel, throwing some of the clothes out before he finds what he needs. Quickly going back to Sam, who seems to be grinning at his lack of patience, he throws the bottle of lube next to him. 

Grabbing his head he pulls him into a kiss, to wipe that grin off, which seems to work, as Sam bucks against him. Dean grins, nipping his lips before backing off, popping the lube open. He can feel Sam's eyes on him, which makes his cock throb even harder, before he moves between the spread legs. Coating his fingers in the lube, he pulls Sam a bit closer, and he tilts his hips, giving Dean a view of his hole.

"Christ..." Dean pants, grabbing Sam's thigh with his other hand, bringing his lube coated fingers close, brushing the tips against the puckered hole. He checks on Sam, whose eyes are locked with his hand, lips parted and panting. He watches Sam tense up, and rubs his thigh, letting his wrist do all the work. Working his finger around slowly, Dean pumps his cock, before grabbing Sam's to distract him. It seems to work, and Sam falls down against the mattress with a cracked moan. 

Desperate to get on with it, Dean adds another one, spreading them open while searching for that specific spot. Sam nearly jolts up, his moans more frequent and breathless, and Dean smiles, teasing that bundle of nerves again and again. Maybe someday he'll work Sam to his very limit, have him withering under him for hours.

"Dean please-"

"I got you baby brother. Just a little more." He coos, brushing the sweaty bangs off Sam's forehead. Fuck, he could come so many times just to Sam's face when he's all wrecked. 

"I can take it, just please fuck me." Sam moans, and it takes everything in Dean not to give in, not to thrust his cock up that tight hole like Sam's near begging for. He adds the third, shushing Sam who lets out a mix of a moan and a yell. Just to hear him like this, all desperate and wrecked...

Fuck.

Dean curses, spreading his fingers one more time before pulling them out, shushing the whine Sam lets out. Quickly he seems to get on with it, and moves his hips upwards, giving Dean better access as he settles in between Sam's legs. He pumps his cock, catching Sam looking at it, and briefly wonders how his lips would feel around it. He pops some more lube, watches Sam who licks his lips, tilts his legs up even more, driving Dean insane.

Grabbing the leg in front of him, he places it over his shoulder, trying to aim his painfully hard cock. He nudges at the opening his fingers created, already feeling Sam's muscles contract around him. And he pushes.

Both of them curse loudly, Sam's curse breaking off to a sharp moan, his fingers digging into Dean's back, as he continues pushing in. Getting through the tightest part, both of them gasp as Dean slides fully in. Sam's shaking, his legs around Dean already trembling, whose taking in some deep breaths. 

Sam feels so full, so right, and he never wants this to end. To be stuffed full of Dean, have him everywhere. Around him, against him, inside of him-

"Ready?" A hand on his cheek, and Sam's nodding before Dean finishes. He pulls out slowly, cock dragging against his already sensitive walls, before pushing back in with more force, and Sam has to grip the sheets. He bites his lip, his balls drawn up, Dean's hand rubbing his thigh, and feels Dean pull out again, jolts of pleasure wrecking through him with each movement.

Dean slams his hips up, and Sam swears, all breath knocked out of his body, as Dean doesn't stop, just takes him.

He can't help but moan, his voice shaking from each thrust, each slap of his skin against his. Dean's brushing against his prostate, bringing in loads of pleasure that wreck through his entire body. His legs tremble as he tries to pull Dean closer, lowering on him which makes his cock slam straight into his prostate.

His whole body jerks, his vision going white as it wrecks through him, his cock jerking in Dean's hand. The pleasure is too much, Dean continuing to drive straight into that bundle of nerves. He shakes, digging his fingers into Dean's back, probably drawing blood. He tightens his muscles, and feels Dean tremble, cursing a streak. 

His hips come more uncoordinated, just brutal thrusts, and Sam feels him come. Their chests brushing together, Dean slams up a couple more times, his body shivering. Sam can feel his come inside, hot and sticky, and it makes him feel more like Dean's. To have him where no one else has touched. 

As Dean's hips stop twitching, he chuckles, moving his weight more balanced on Sam. "Fuck." 

Sam laughs, but winces when Dean's cock slips out of him, the older wrapping an arm around his exhausted body, bringing them flush together.

"Fuck indeed." 

"We can talk later, I'm in for a nap." Dean mumbles into his neck, and Sam smiles so hard his face hurts, the ache in his chest long gone, and filled with a soothing feeling. He turns his head, pressing their lips together. He can feel Dean's smile against his, can feel his tired body wrapped around him, safe. 

Whatever the angels, or the Devil has got in store for them, they'll overcome. He has Dean, and he isn't letting him go ever again. A pair of lips press against his forehead, a hand grabbing his, and Sam smiles.

Yes, they're going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> And we done! Phew. I'm still not sure if I like this or not, but lets hope someone else does. Stay safe y'all!


End file.
